


words of less than one syllable

by Siria



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to sheafrotherdon for betaing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	words of less than one syllable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intermezzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intermezzo/gifts).



Danny gets woken up at 3.05 by a phone call from the security company, telling him that the alarm at the McGarrett house has just been activated, which means that he's up and wriggling into a pair of pants when Steve calls him at 3.17. "Steven," Danny says, grabbing his car keys and heading out the door, "I presume you were planning on telling me, at some point, that I'm on the call list for your alarm company, huh? What was it this time?"

Even over the phone line, Steve's shrug is a tangible thing. "Not sure yet. Three guys. We can ask them when they wake up." He's not even out of breath, the jerk.

Danny starts up his car, sighing. He supposes he should be grateful that no one got shot, but it's three in the morning and he can't remember the last time he got a full night's sleep. "Fine, just, you know... keep calm for the moment, okay? Breathe. I'll be there in ten minutes, we'll find out what's going on, okay? HPD should be on the way, too."

"Okay," Steve says, and then just stays on the line, silent. Danny supposes he should find it a little weird—Steve breathing at him over the line while he stares down at three unconscious attackers; Danny driving at top speed down an empty freeway, vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that in his haste, he left his apartment commando—but it's Steve, and proximity to him over the past few months has proved to Danny that he's almost infinitely adaptable.

He takes the turn-off for Steve's street, says, "I suppose I should be glad you finally set the damn alarm. Maybe I'm a little less glad you put me down as what, your just-in-case contact?"

"Well," Steve says, matter of fact, "you were already on my life insurance, so."

Danny's pulled all the way into Steve's driveway and turned off the car before he processes that. "Wait... what?" Partially, at least.

"Mary has some money from Mom's side of the family, and I don't really have much else by way of blood family. And you have a kid and Hawaii's pretty expensive. Good colleges, too, and you know Gracie should have the best, so."

There's a lamp on in Steve's living room, so Danny can see in through the window, see Steve standing there, phone at his ear. Danny blinks, leans back in his seat, struggles for words that aren't _wait... what_? And to think, only yesterday, after the whole stunt with the zip line and the kicking people in the head thing, Danny had been saying that Kono was getting to be a match for Steve's crazy. How about this for an object lesson in McGarrettish unpredictability. "Life insurance?"

This time, Danny can see him shrug. "It's not much. $750,000. But it should get you a decent place, put Gracie through college, maybe a couple years of grad school."

"I..." Danny begins. "You..." He can't think of what to say, and holy shit, Steve McGarrett has succeeded in doing what both Rachel and Danny's mom swore would never be possible—he's rendered Danny speechless. "One moment, Steven," Danny says. He carefully places the phone on the passenger seat, because there's no way he wants to pay for yet another cell phone this year, and then beats his head off the steering wheel for a while. The horn beeps irregularly.

When Danny lifts his head, he sees that Steve's now standing at the living room window, phone still at his ear, sporting some variant of ninja SEAL face, brow furrowed, crazy eyes in full force. Danny picks up his own phone.

"Danny?" Steve says, voice wary that way it gets when someone suggests the possibility of running an op without grenades, or with extra backup. "You okay, buddy?"

"I... Screw it," Danny says, because he's not sure if Steve realises what he's doing or not, if he knows what his own motivation is. Either way, Danny knows what he has to do next, and there's probably no real way to communicate it to Steve that involves words. "You. Meet me at the front door."

"Okay, Danno," Steve says with perfect equanimity, as if Danny's behaviour is entirely comprehensible to him. And maybe, Danny thinks, as he ends the call and struggles his way out of his suddenly uncooperative seat-belt, maybe it is—maybe Danny's whole life, seen in technicolour McGarrett-Vision, makes perfect sense.

He marches up to the door, where Steve is standing waiting for him. "Hey, Danny," he says, like he wasn't just talking to Danny on the phone. "You okay?"

Danny holds up a finger. "HPD are going to be here in less than five minutes and you've got three men lying unconscious in your living room, so I don't have much time to say this. Which means that you, my friend, are going to hush and let me say what I have to say, you understand?"

Steve opens his mouth, closes his mouth, nods.

"An excellent beginning," Danny says. "So. I feel that I'm sort of... _obliged_ right now to point out a certain pattern of behaviour on your part, Steven. You list me as your emergency contact, you buy me and my daughter a ruinously expensive few days in a hotel"—he ticks things off on his fingers as he goes—"you call in favours with the governor for me, you list me as the recipient of a goddamn life insurance policy, I do not have enough fingers to enumerate all the ways in which you are demonstrably _fucked in the head_."

Steve blinks at him. "Danny—"

"No speaking!" Danny says, "Just listening! Because Steve, do you even realise that you are only _this_ fucked in the head when it comes to me, huh? To the two of us?" He prods Steve in the chest with an index finger. "Because I feel that when it reaches the point of 3am phone calls about security alarms, some measure of self awareness is required, okay?"

Steve squints at him. The poor goof looks honest to god confused. Danny sighs. He crooks a finger. "C'mere." Obediently, Steve stoops just a little. "Let me explain it to you," Danny says, "in words of no syllables whatsoever," and he kisses him.

At first, Steve stiffens, whole body jerking with shock, but then he opens right up for Danny, body swaying forward, mouth hot and hungry. Danny can hear the sirens of approaching cop cars, so he makes the most of it, turns the kiss filthy and full of promise—tongue and scrape of teeth, his fingertips digging into Steve's biceps. "Are we clear?" he says when they break the kiss.

Steve stares at him for a second, mouth round with shock and pupils blown wide, before he grins at Danny—one of those huge grins of his, the ones that are all unexpected, endearing candour. "I— _yeah_ , Danno, I, I, didn't think..."

Danny sighs. "Yeah, that's your problem, you big goof. You never do." Behind him, he hears the first HPD car pull into the drive with its sirens blaring. "Okay. We're going to work this case, we're going to figure out, and then you and me are going to have a conversation, you hear me?" Steve shifts from foot to foot at that. Danny rolls his eyes. "And then we can make out some more."

"Okay, Danny," Steve says, lighting up.

Danny turns his gaze heavenwards for a moment. "Jesus wept," he mutters, and then the two of them do what they always do—they walk into the room side by side; they go to work.


End file.
